hope molting and growing new feathers

A friend away a friend some day
a friend can’t stay all the day
a friend won’t pray a friend can’t play
not today is what they say
a friend they say a friend always
a friend who may return some day

in a way you might say
hope molts and regrows feathers today

I think my inner four year old wrote today’s poem. I am thinking about the song my mother taught me, very young, for when I was frustrated.

My sister and I loved this song and others, Samuel Hall and “I don’t want to play in your back yard, I don’t like you any more. You’ll be sorry when you see me, sliding down my cellar door.”

I gave a young friend a book of rhymes. He looked at me with some horror. “These are nursery rhymes.” I grin at him. “Look again. It’s a book of insulting playground rhymes, suitable for all occasions.” He looked at the book again and held on to it.

The photograph is from the National Museum of Women in the Arts again. Another fabulous painting that seems to fit my theme.

no hands


Our heron is grooming again. We had a discussion last night: do they have more bones in the neck than people? And what about giraffes?

Here is a lovely blog post about birds and bones and herons’ necks from 2013: http://rosy-finch.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-unfeathered-bird-review-and.html. Add that book to my wish list, it sounds both gorgeous and fascinating.




Our heron keeps an eye on us, her paparazzi, but begins to groom her feathers in the early morning fun. I am thinking about keeping my balance on the branch, way up in the air, and then I cannot do that with my neck. She is amazing! And so calm and relaxed moving on a high branch in the tree.

For the Daily Prompt: athletic. I wish I were that strong and limber.